


Shared Goals

by sabinelagrande



Series: Teamwork [3]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Auditory Exhibitionism, Co-Topping, Dom/sub, F/M, Femdom, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Maledom, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Size Difference, Unprotected Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23662087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Greg is not having the best time of it, and Rachel intervenes; or, When the Mouse Is Away.
Relationships: Greg Davies/Alex Horne/Rachel Horne, Greg Davies/Rachel Horne
Series: Teamwork [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703704
Comments: 6
Kudos: 47





	Shared Goals

**Author's Note:**

> At some point this became a series?

What happens is, Alex goes to America. 

He doesn't go just once; it's multiple times, as they're setting things up for Taskmaster US. The part where it's a few days at a time is fine. Greg just sees him and Rachel when he can, and things move along. Then Alex leaves for several weeks, and that's not fine.

Greg thinks Taskmaster US is a fucking terrible idea, because barring a few very notable exceptions, transferring UK television to the US doesn't work. He's watched the American Red Dwarf. That's a thing he'll never unsee.

Greg has expressed this opinion many times in the past, but once they announced Taskmaster US he shut his gob, thank you, because he knows which side his bread is buttered on.

So Alex leaves, and Greg doesn't even think anything of it. They have a little do for him to send him off; Greg doesn't even get sad, because Alex is just going to be gone for a while. He's going to come back, and life will go on as it does. Nothing to it.

Then Greg wakes up the day after Alex leaves and realizes that Alex is _gone_. It's a feeling he can't shake, the deep unease of the fact that Alex is not here, the wrongness of the fact that Alex is not in his place. This was supposed to be nothing, but suddenly all Greg wants to do is lie on his couch and do nothing until Alex comes back.

It is the weirdest fucking feeling, and Greg can't shut it off.

He knows that it's affecting him, and he knows that the more perceptive of his friends can tell; it is obvious almost immediately that Rachel is in this number. Rachel, for as cruel as she can be when she wants, is an exceedingly nice person. She cares about people, and she's decided she cares about Greg. This has led to calls and texts, and Greg returned them for about a week before the crushing guilt set in, the idea that he was sneaking around behind Alex's back. This is a fucking ridiculous idea on the surface of it, with everything they've done, but it's always been an act. Greg's never done anything with Rachel that Alex didn't know every detail of, and vice versa.

But none of this should be stopping him from having fucking coffee with a friend of his. He just can't go and sit there and make do with what he can have and doesn't want. He's aching with how much he wants the two of them, in a way that he can't have them, in a way that is out of bounds. They're a unit, and he's their friend they fuck sometimes, and he can't be more.

Rachel doesn't know that Greg is thinking any of this, because Greg doesn't want her to. That's probably why she's calling him right now, a call which Greg has answered, because he can't bring himself not to pick up when she calls.

"I'm worried about you," Rachel is saying. "You never go out."

"I go out all the time," Greg says; this is a lie. He's working at the moment, so he goes to shoots and he goes home. It's easier to brood at home. Better lighting.

"You really don't," Rachel says. "Come on, let's go to lunch."

Greg rubs his forehead. "I really don't think we should," he says, and instantly he realizes it was the wrong thing, too revealing by far.

"Why?" Rachel says, sounding confused.

"It's just a bad idea," Greg says. "Have to watch my girlish figure."

"What's wrong?" Rachel says gently. "Look, you can tell me whatever's happening."

"You don't want me to," Greg says.

"Actually, I do," Rachel says, and now he's made Rachel annoyed with him, which makes him feel like dogshit.

"Can we just let this go?" Greg says.

"Don't think we can," Rachel says.

Something in Greg snaps. "I don't want to go to fucking lunch, because I'm in love with you," he snarls into the phone.

And then he hangs up, because that's what you do when you ruin your life.

He doesn't even look at his phone, still in his hand, when it starts ringing again. Of course she's calling back, because that's who she is; she's not going to let this go. Greg can't exactly say he blames her. She could just have a little compassion for how thoroughly Greg just fucked himself.

The phone eventually stops ringing and doesn't start ringing again, and Greg feels a sick sense of relief. That is, until his text message alert goes off. He should leave it unread, but that's just not going to happen; he's just not the sort of person who could not look.

He opens the message, and it's one sentence:

_Answer the phone, or this is over._

It makes Greg pull up short; that's a text from Mistress, not Rachel, who's never used a punctuation mark in a text message in her whole life. Mistress isn't even Greg's mistress, having no power to tell him what to do, but you take her dictates lightly at your own peril. He's also more than a little confused about the second part of it; he was sure he'd just ended it right there, whether he wanted to or not.

She apparently has decided he's had enough time, because the phone starts buzzing in his hand. He takes a breath, and answers.

"Hi," he says.

"I'm sorry, I think we got cut off," she says, sounding annoyed. "Right around the time you said you love me."

"That's not precisely what I said," Greg says, wincing.

"No, it is precisely what you said," Rachel says. "You said 'I'm in love with you.'"

"Actually I-" he says, and the need to weasel out of it is almost unbearable, even though he knows there's no going back, no putting this back on the shelf and pretending it never happened. He forces himself to push through it, because he's the one who fucked up. "I said 'I'm in love with you,' in the plural sense of the word."

There's a pause. "That's a very different statement."

"Yeah, it is, a bit," he says.

"Oh, _Greg_ ," Rachel says, and he very much wants to die. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

He sighs. "Because we were having a lovely time up until now, and it seemed like a shame to ruin it, as I have just done here." He makes a hand motion even though she can't see him, which makes him feel a bit better.

"Is that what you think happened?" she says, and Greg doesn't know what to make of her tone of voice.

"Seems fairly obvious," he says, feeling miserable. 

"Alex and I have discussed it," she says, which makes Greg straighten. "We decided you needed to go at your own pace, if you ever even wanted to go there at all. This is new territory for all of us, but Alex and I had the benefit of having each other to talk to about it."

"I am deeply confused right now," he says, still standing stock-still.

"Do you really think we don't love you?" Rachel says, her voice soft and fond.

"Well that's not a very good decision," Greg says, reaching immediately for something to distance himself from the situation. 

"You're an easy man to love," she says.

"I have no idea what to say to that," he says, desperately splashing around in completely uncharted waters and wishing for _anything_ to keep him afloat.

"I'm going to come over," she says. "I'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

"Alright, then," Greg says, because it does not occur to him that this is his house and he gets to say who visits.

"See you soon," Rachel says, and then she hangs up.

Greg doesn't really do anything; for some reason it bothers him that his breakfast plate is still on the table, so he puts it in the sink. That's the extent of it, yet somehow it doesn't seem like a long time before Rachel knocks on the door. Maybe he's just so dazed by the whole thing that he's having trouble keeping track of time.

"Dear," Rachel sighs, when the door is shut behind them. She throws her arms around his neck, tugging; he hesitates for a moment before letting her pull him down. His eyelids shut as their lips meet, and he feels himself melt. He's missed this so much that he doesn't even know how to express it. He tries to say it with his body, holding Rachel tight against him as he kisses her over and over.

They finally manage to separate, and Rachel takes him by the hand, leading him to the couch and sitting him down. She sits down next to him, their knees brushing.

"Darling, is this why you've been acting like this?" Rachel says, putting a hand on his cheek.

"More or less," he says, and he lets himself lean into it. "I didn't want to tease myself." Rachel doesn't say anything, just leans forward and kisses him briefly before sitting back, like she's trying to fortify him. "If I couldn't be with you- the two of you-"

"We'll make it work," she says. "You've always been perfect for us. We've never done anything like this before with anyone, but we'll do it with you."

"Rachel," he says, and he leans forward and kisses her with everything he's got, so much pent up longing. "I missed you so much." He sighs. "I miss Alex."

"Yeah," she says, running her hand through his hair. "I couldn't breathe a word, but-"

"You're supporting him to his face and quietly seething behind his back?" Greg supplies.

Rachel sighs heavily. "Yes," she says. "It was a stupid idea except for the money, and we didn't need it." She looks frustrated. "And I trust Alex, and I met Reggie and he's lovely, and it's just a TV show-" She trails off.

"Except that it's not a TV show at all when it's me and Alex," Greg says. "If it was, none of this would have happened."

"Fuck," she says, her head falling back. "That is it exactly."

He pulls her to him, seating her across his lap. "He's being quite the naughty boy."

"Mmm," she says. "He's in for it when he gets home, twice over."

He laces their fingers together. "I love you."

Rachel doesn't speak for a moment, something soft and fond and nameless on her face. "I love you too," she says, cupping the back of his head with her free hand.

"And when our boy gets home, he's going to have a lot to answer for," Greg says.

"It's going to be just dreadful," she says. She gets a sly look on her face.

"What's your idea?" Greg asks, already certain it's going to be devious and very specifically cruel.

"Now, I know you won't do video," she says; this is true, partly because it could get out, mostly because the thought of watching himself like that turns his stomach a bit. "But what would you say to audio?"

"What for?" he asks suspiciously. 

Rachel grins. "To send to Alex, of course."

"Oh, that's very good," Greg says.

"I hoped you'd think so," she says. "If he's going to go all the way to America, he's given up the right to watch."

He looks at their situation. "Not on the couch."

"Why not?" she asks curiously.

He sets her on her feet, then stands up and sweeps her off of them again. "Because I want to do it properly."

"Don't forget my phone," she says, pointing. "We need it to record."

He bends down, letting her grab it. "Then let's make good radio, shall we?"

The bedroom door is ajar, and Greg boots it open just because he can; Rachel laughs, which makes whatever scuff is probably on it worth it. He sets her down on her feet, kissing her soundly. She tosses the phone onto the bed so she can put her hands on Greg's chest. They're so small; Greg loves how small she is, not just for the contrast but for how much she packs into it, this whirlwind force that compresses into one little Rachel, like a magic trick, like an extradimensional space.

"You need to be wearing less clothes," Rachel says, pushing at his t-shirt and getting nowhere.

"I'd say it's even more important for you," Greg says, though he does take his shirt off.

"I'd debate that point," she says, pulling her shirt over her head. She's not wearing a bra, and his hands go to her breasts with no conscious thought required. She sighs, pushing into it. "God, I need your hands on me."

"I will do that as long as you want," he says, pinching her nipples the way she likes it. She pulls him down for a kiss, biting his lower lip and then soothing it, her fingers scratching over his scalp.

He eventually has to break away, his hands moving down to undo her jeans. She lets them drop and steps out of them, standing there in just her panties. The sight is too much; he goes to his knees in front of her, tugging her underwear down her legs and letting it hit the floor, so he can get down and lick her.

Rachel grabs the back of his head, gasping; he doesn't stop, licking and sucking, going after every spot that will make her go wild. It feels like an eternity that he's been cut off from this, and he can't seem to do anything but grab greedily for more.

"Stop," she says breathlessly, pushing his head away, and Greg, god help him, actually makes a noise of disappointment. "I want to come with you inside me."

He feels a pulse of desire go through him. "Then just tell me how you want me."

"You're still not naked, for a start," she says. He gets to his feet, pulling his shorts and boxers down. She makes an appreciative noise, wrapping her hand around his ridiculously hard cock and stroking him. "I think me on my back. I want to feel you all around me."

"God yes," he says, and she lets him go, walking over to the bed. She picks up her cell phone, which confuses him for a moment before he remembers. 

He walks over to join her, unable to resist putting a hand on her hip. "Should we provide an introduction, or just get to it?" he asks.

"Oh, I think it's better if he doesn't know what it is at first," she says, looking for the right app. She opens it. "I'm going to start the recording and leave it on the nightstand. Just forget it's there." She grins. "Or put on a good show. Whatever feels right."

Greg smirks. "Get it started."

True to her word, Rachel begins recording and sets the phone down. "Come here, you," she says, throwing Greg's blankets aside and laying down on the bed.

"With pleasure," Greg says. He climbs onto the bed and on top of her, and Rachel puts her arms around his neck, kissing him. He has to arch to do that and line the two of them up, but it's worth doing.

Both of them groan loudly as he pushes into her. "Oh fuck," she says. "I needed you so much."

He was actually kind of considering not saying anything and letting Alex freak out a little, but it doesn't seem right. "I missed you," he says. "I can't be without you."

"Fuck me," she pants. "Greg, please."

It actually makes it better, Alex knowing it's him, though he can't say why. "I'm going to take care of you," he says, "since certain pathetic worms can't be bothered." He starts to move his hips; he's doing it slowly, but that's not going to last.

"Nobody can fuck me like you can," Rachel says, and it makes Greg feel warm; it feels more true now. "I need you to take me hard."

"Absolutely," he says, kissing her.

He's relieved that he can just not hold back, not that he was going to be able to. Rachel is going wild underneath him, nails leaving claw marks on his skin. It only makes him want more, needing to give her absolutely everything she wants.

"I forgot how big you feel inside me," she pants.

"Nothing like Alex's little prick," he says, with a little grin.

She laughs. "Nothing at all," she says. "Yours actually fills me up."

"You can have as much as you want," he says, moving her leg so he can thrust in a little deeper, and she gasps.

"I want everything," she says, grabbing him and kissing him again.

He's moving fast now, and she's coming apart, thrusting up against him as he moves, taking him as deep as possible. He can't believe he let himself go any time without this, not that he thought he could have it.

"I love you so much," Greg says. He realizes suddenly that he's done it again, so at a natural interval he says, "I love you both so much."

Rachel smiles widely. "And we love you," she says. He folds so she can kiss him, intense and sweet.

Greg would like to say it lasts an age, but it doesn't. They want each other too badly, they've missed each other too much. He just tries to make it as good as he possibly can, thrusting into her just right, giving her exactly what she wants. He thinks about Alex listening to this and groans, imagining how he'll be dying to touch, that look he has when he watches Greg and Rachel fuck, like he's in awe.

"Fuck," Rachel pants. "Greg, please-"

"Yeah," he says, slipping his hand between them so he can rub her clit. "I've got you."

Rachel cries out, her hips working desperately against his, so he moves faster, fucking her into the mattress. "Yes," she gasps. "Yes, yes-"

Her words turn into a moan as she comes, bucking up against Greg so hard it's almost thrashing, her hand clutching her own breast so hard that her nails dig into her skin. She feels so good around him that it's a miracle Greg doesn't come, especially when she peaks _again_ ; he just keeps going, trying to wring out every drop of pleasure. 

Rachel finally levels off, collapsed onto the bed, looking up at him with hazy, sated eyes. He hasn't been able to bring himself to stop, but he's slowed, just rolling his hips.

"You good?" Greg asks, running his hand over her hair.

"Yeah," she says breathily. He goes to pull out, but she grabs his hip. "Where d'you think you're going?"

"If you don't let go soon, about as far as your thigh," he says.

She arches up against him. "Come inside me."

He groans without meaning to. "Are you sure?" he asks, because that's still a limit, a line in the sand.

"Yes," she says, grinding her hips into his. "You're ours."

He gasps; he couldn't stop right now if you paid him. He fucks into her quickly, so close he can taste it, so ready for it.

She twines her hands into his hair, cradling his head in her small hands. "Greg," she says, looking into his eyes, and he loses it, coming with a shout, the tight heat of her all around him.

Neither of them move for a long moment, just breathing together. Eventually Greg must, because his arms feel like they're going to give out, and he can't just squash Rachel. He rolls off her, only going far enough to lay down on his side next to her, resting a hand just below her breasts.

Rachel reaches over to the nightstand, picking up her phone. Greg considers parting remarks and finds he has nothing to say, so he keeps quiet as she turns off the recording and replaces the phone.

"He's going to go mental," she says, turning back to Greg and putting an arm around him.

"I hope he does," Greg says. "It'll serve him right, not that I'd say that."

Rachel snuggles up against him. "I wonder if you'd help me with one more thing."

"Name it," Greg says, kissing the top of her head. "Anything for you."

\--

Things are going fine, Alex would say. They're not going quite great; Alex gets frustrated easily sometimes when people start meddling with _Taskmaster_ , and Comedy Central want to meddle with it a _lot_. It's going to be fine, it's going to be okay, they've been doing this too short a time for him to be getting upset already.

He gets back to the condo he's renting and immediately wants nothing more than to check his email. He's not even logged in to his personal account on the phone he's using; it doesn't belong to him, and the kind of messages Rachel sends him are often not ones he wants any TV network knowing about.

He hopes to God there's a message from Rachel. He misses her so badly he almost can't handle it; he misses the kids, he misses their life, mundane or not. Right now, he'd take anything from her.

She's not the only person he misses, but that's complicated. 

There is a message from Rachel, with attachments, even, and Alex sighs; sometimes she sends him pictures or videos, sometimes of the boys, sometimes the kind he hopes the boys never in their natural lives learn about. This one, however, is interesting. It's neither pictures nor videos, just two audio recordings, labeled "Recording_A" and "Recording_B".

Alex frowns, but he looks to the text of the email. It's not very long:

_Boy,_

_These are to be listened to only alone and only with headphones on. You will listen to A first, and you will NOT touch yourself. After you listen to A, you will listen to B and follow its instructions. When you have done this, you may relisten to both of them as you please. You may find them both inspiring._

_-MR_

Now this is something completely different.

He immediately downloads both the files; at a glance, A is much, much longer than B, and he wonders what that means. It isn't precisely surprising that he'd be made to sit through the longer one first. It just seems like something Mistress would do.

Clearly he's going to want to get comfortable for this. He actually really wants to get out of his suit and shower, so he does it quickly, coming back in just a towel. He grabs his good headphones and takes the computer to the big chair in the living room, sitting down and balancing it on the wide arm of the chair. He plugs in the headphones and puts them on, settling in the chair before hitting play on the first recording.

The audio hasn't been edited, so it starts with the rustling sounds of someone turning on a recorder- probably a phone, if Rachel's doing it.

"Come here, you," Rachel says on the recording, and Alex frowns when he hears someone respond, too far away to make it out. There are noises of movement, and Alex realizes with dawning horror that she's about to make him listen to her have sex with someone else. She can do that, that's her decision, but it instantly makes him feel miserable, and not how he likes her to make him feel miserable. 

But here he is, and now Rachel is groaning, along with the man who's both having what Alex desperately misses and filling the role that he's felt awful about not being there to fill.

"Oh fuck," Rachel says. "I needed you so much."

Alex honestly doesn't know if he can listen to this. It's making him feel like a failure as a husband and as Mistress's boy, and he can't take that, not thousands of miles away and alone.

"I missed you," the man in the recording says, and Alex's shoulders lift; he almost doesn't know if he can let himself believe what he's hearing. "I can't be without you."

"Fuck me, Greg, please," Rachel says breathlessly, and Alex is beside himself with relief.

"I'm going to take care of you," Greg says, "since certain pathetic worms can't be bothered." 

He can handle that coming from Greg, even with a side of humiliation, in a way he couldn't from anybody else. He does feel miserable that he can't be there to meet Mistress's needs, but he trusts Greg so much. Greg is better than him, in a fundamental way, and Mistress is in such good hands.

"I forgot how big you feel inside me," Rachel says on the recording, amongst the sounds of the two of them together. 

"Nothing like Alex's little prick," Greg replies, and Alex moans without thinking about it.

"Nothing at all," Rachel says with a laugh. "Yours actually fills me up."

"You can have as much as you want," Greg says. Alex knows that's true; Greg always gives everything, never holds back when it's like this. He's so much better at it than Alex is.

"I want everything," Rachel says, and Alex sighs.

The audio quality is not perfect, but he can still clearly hear the sounds of the two of them fucking. The gasping, the sound of the bed moving, the noise of skin on skin- Alex almost feels like he's in the room but blindfolded. He shuts his eyes to make the illusion complete; he wants so badly to touch himself, but Mistress told him no. Nothing is worth disappointing Mistress.

"I love you so much," Greg says suddenly, and Alex's eyes fly open. There's no time to think about what to do before Greg speaks again. "I love you both so much."

"And we love you," Rachel says, a thing Alex couldn't have said. He does love Greg, he's known it for a while, but this is so big, so heavy. It changes everything; he and Rachel discussed what it might mean, that both of them feel the same way about Greg, but he'd really assumed that Greg was never going to be interested in them like that. Maybe he'd want Rachel, which wouldn't have worked, but the knowledge that it's both of them is almost too much to hold.

On the recording, Greg and Rachel aren't talking anymore. All Alex can hear is the noises of them fucking; he's achingly hard and he's burning with shame that he's not there to fulfill his responsibilities. Rachel has never said anything remotely like that, but Alex can fill in the gaps for himself. He's Mistress's boy, and he's been doing a very poor job of keeping Mistress satisfied.

He's so glad she can have Sir.

Alex bites down on his fingers as he listens, needing something to focus on but how much he wants to come through the recording and land with them on the other side. He can tell that Rachel is getting close, the noises she makes, the ones that Alex, just like every time, drinks in greedily.

"Fuck," she pants. "Greg, please-"

"Yeah, I've got you," Greg says, and it hits Alex dead center in the chest.

Rachel comes, and Alex can feel it in his spine. The recording quality is okay, but he strains to hear more, needing to know everything. He makes a desperate noise when she comes for a second time; he can just picture it, Greg pushing into her so deep, the intense concentration that comes over his face when he's focused on nothing but her.

Rachel sighs, sated, but there's no noise like Greg finishing, and the recording doesn't stop. Alex is a little confused, but he doesn't dare stop listening.

"You good?" Greg asks Rachel, sounding winded but fond.

"Yeah," Rachel replies. "Where d'you think you're going?"

"If you don't let go soon, about as far as your thigh," he says, which makes Alex snort despite himself.

"Come inside me," she says, and Alex gasps.

Greg groans, which is a fair reaction. "Are you sure?" 

Alex has much the same question. That's always been a limit, a way in which Rachel and Alex are connected, exclusively. Maybe there are problems with that, and they're not even having more kids, but it's theirs.

"Yes," Rachel says. "You're ours."

Alex groans so loudly that it drowns out the recording. She's right, because of course she is. If Greg is in this, they are all in this; that's been the last barrier, but if there's no separation between the three of them, then it's gone.

He hears Rachel say Greg's name, just once, so much feeling packed into it, and Greg shouts. Alex knows he's coming, spilling into Rachel, and Alex sighs, a kind of satisfaction settling over him despite the fact that he's miles away, alone wearing a scratchy towel and trying to make do with just noises on a recording.

The recording stops, and the next one doesn't start. Alex is glad of the break. He's never smoked in his life, but he somehow craves the cliched cigarette. That was not an experience you have every day. Mistress was absolutely correct that he'll be listening to that again; it was fairly emotionally rigorous listening to it with no introduction, but now that he knows what's coming, he wants to examine it minutely.

But Mistress did tell him to listen to the second recording, the contents of which, at this point, he could not begin to guess. He adjusts in his seat; there is no point in being comfortable, but it makes him feel a little more centered.

He begins Recording B. It sounds like this one might have been edited, or perhaps just taped more carefully, because it starts with silence, and then Rachel's voice.

"Hello, my darling boy," Mistress says, in a knowing voice that makes Alex feel warm. "Did you enjoy that? Someone's got to take care of your mistress if you won't do it." Alex wants to protest that it's not a matter of won't, but he can say nothing. "All this time and not so much as a naughty photo, just imagine." He snorts; how that would turn out is that she'd mock him mercilessly for it then squirrel it away for her own use. "No wonder I had to enlist the help of your sir."

"You listen here, you weak little slut," Sir says suddenly, and Alex gasps. "You won't fall down on the job just because you're not here, do you understand me? You're going to please your mistress, and you're going to please me." Sir snorts derisively. "Even though you know we're both better at it than you are."

"You're lucky we don't just go off together," Mistress says, and Alex's heart seizes for a moment. "But we won't, because you belong to us," she says, her voice softer but still with that note of command that makes Alex's spine turn to jelly. "It's not important right now what that looks like. You've got a job to do, and you need to focus on that first and foremost."

"We were extremely generous in giving you not one, but two recordings of us sounding very appealing," Sir says, making it sound like they've done him a huge favor, which, of course, they have. "If you know what's good for you, you're going to make us one." Alex is mildly terrified. "We want the whole thing. Noises. Dialogue."

"Moaning," Mistress puts in.

"Oh yeah, definitely moaning, thank you," Sir says. "We want to hear you wank your pathetic little cock, and then we want you to thank us when you come."

"Thank us individually," Mistress says. "Blanket statements are not going to cut it."

"Then you're going to send it to us, and we're going to do whatever we're going to do with it, and that's that," Sir says, with the kind of finality that comes effortlessly to him.

"Maybe if it's particularly inspirational, there might be something nice for you in it," Mistress says, and Alex perks up. She laughs cruelly. "I wouldn't count on it though."

"That's basically the long and short of it," Sir says. "Now I'm going to take your mistress to bed again, if you find _that_ motivational."

Rachel laughs. "Already?"

"Oh yes," Greg says, in the playfully devious way he has sometimes. "You have no idea how much I have in store for you."

"You're going to respond to this email immediately, telling me that you understand what you have been instructed to do," Mistress says to Alex. "You're going to send your recording to my email address by the day after tomorrow. Afterwards you will receive more instructions. _Don't_ disappoint us," she says, and Alex feels a chill.

"Or do, because I would love to come up with some punishments," Sir says lightly, though Alex suspects it is not an empty threat. "I can be extremely creative, and you don't want to see that."

"Oh, he really can," Mistress says. "Now get to work. I'll speak to you soon."

"Take care of yourself, boy," Sir says, and just before the recording ends, he adds, "We love you."

Alex sits back in his chair, sighing heavily. This has been quite the rollercoaster so far; he feels filled up and so hungry at the same time. He's so turned on that the idea of not touching himself now seems untenable, so he supposes it's time to record.

Rachel is definitely asleep; maybe she's asleep with Greg, which gives him a warm feeling. Either way, Mistress said to respond immediately, and that's what he'll do.

\--

When Greg wakes up, Rachel is still there; he didn't expect her to give him the slip in the night or anything, but it's nice either way. She's sitting on the edge of the bed, going through her phone, and Greg remembers she's waiting for an important communiqué.

Greg scooches over and puts an arm around her waist. "What's the latest from our American correspondent?" he says, unable to resist nuzzling his face into her side.

"Oh, you'll just have to read it for yourself," Rachel says, with clear amusement in her voice, and she passes him the phone.

Greg's glasses are on the nightstand, and he has to put them on to read the screen properly. The message isn't terribly long:

_Dear Mistress and Sir,_

_Thank you for the lovely gifts. I didn't deserve them, but I am overjoyed to have received them. I will do as you instructed just as soon as possible. Thank you for considering me, when you are superlative in every respect and I am not. I hope that you are well, and that you will correspond with me again soon._

_Yours utterly,  
Little Alex Horne_

"He's such a _nerd_ ," Greg says.

"I know," Rachel says fondly.

"He's probably going to make fifteen recordings before he gets a take he likes," Greg says, handing the phone back to her.

"And aren't we just so kind that we didn't ask him to do it live," Rachel says. "Now he only has to worry about being absolutely perfect."

"You're so sneaky," Greg says, pulling her back into bed. "I love it."

Rachel laughs, letting herself be reeled in, and things progress from there.


End file.
